Immature
by mickeylover303
Summary: In which Harry may be a confidence artist, Hermione may be his accomplice, Draco in his line of vision, and Blaise only wishes to be left in peace. HD Slash. [Victorian England]
1. Part the First

"Is it not a shame we are to make compliance elsewhere, Mr. Potter?" 

"I shall admit that it is more sudden than wonted, but I rather... " Mr. Potter paused in his reply; Indulging in the awkward cricketing of the carriage and the rhythmic tap of the metal hooves upon cobblestone.

Rising from his supine position across his companion, Mr. Potter slowly gathered himself to sit on his side of the compartment.

"I rather this is quite a quaint relocation. "

"If you could call it that. I myself prefer the gregarious nature of town. "

"Ah, but this may be a chance to start anew and reform our dastardly selves. "

"It is but you who are the dastard of this pair. Why, anyone could tell simply by your dastardly mane."

"Have you been cavorting with my hair whilst I rested, Ms. Granger? "

A soft scoff accompanied his reply. "Regardless of what I have or have not done, I declare your hair culpable of villainy as adamant as it is not to behave properly."

"I would deem it rather dashing, if I may say so."

"I've no clue as to what to do with you. I should have abandoned you to Mr. Weasley."

"Surely Ms. Granger, you cannot mean to say my company is not to your liking."

"Mr. Potter…" Ms. Granger faced away from her companion, her gazing focused to the small window of the carriage. "I purposely say what I say because I desire to do such. Your interpretation is only yours to behold."

Mr. Potter remained silent, but not without thought. He was intrigued by the retort and Ms. Granger's obvious change in disposition. Was he not lying across her lap but moments before?

"It is the trees, Mr. Potter…They breathe life into you." She turned to face him once more. "Mind you, do not think this a flaw in my disposition, as I know you already have. I merely think we may have stumbled upon something grand." She smiled softly and lay her head upon his shoulder.

_

* * *

_

_And in no way shape or form do I have anything to do with the ownership rights of Harry Potter._


	2. Part the Second

Mr. Zabini decided he enjoyed the novel immensely. It revealed a certain aspect of himself, of which he was not readily accepting, but he would never be reluctant to admit the quiet comforts of being alone in the drawing room. _His_ drawing room, mind you.

It was simply divine.

If he ever were to leave the welcoming confines of his chair, he would remember to express his gratitude concerning the surprisingly entertaining piece of work. However, he doubted he would want to associate himself with the same pleasures as his delusional counterpart.

As he pondered the disadvantages of disclosing any more commonality between himself and a certain person, his momentary silence was interrupted as another presence made himself known.

"Hide me, Mr. Zabini."

"As we are both eighteen years of age, and more for the sake of my dignity, I will not." He peered accusingly at the figure. "I cannot _believe_ you would stray to my locale."

"For the sake of your own dignity, you shall camouflage me with your chair." Mr. Zabini took great care not to merit the words of the young man now crouched in front of him. "And I do not stray. As you insinuate I am some sort of mongrel."

"If someone were to hold a truly respectful conversation with me, do you believe that she or he would wish to be in the same position as you are, now?"

"Surely, Mr. Zabini, it would be too intimate a position if a stranger were to take my place." Mr. Zabini appeared stifled for if but a moment, chary of the sly expression of the other man."

"Have no doubt; I will not be lured by your childish antics." However, he was caught unawares by the hand delicately, almost tenderly, placed upon his left knee. Conversely the sharp pain of an elbow perched upon his right thigh. The aforementioned elbow supporting a pale face that reflected an obnoxiously mirthful smirk.

Which was removed rather quickly when its owner was thrust unceremoniously away from his lap and unto the carpeted floor.

"For as long as I have known you-"

"Nearly twenty years."

"Yes. Of that I am quite aware. Nevertheless, I have known you to be the most positively wonton cretin alive." However, Mr. Zabini's reprimand merely resulted into a lackadaisical grin.

"You would not warrant me any other way, I presume?"

"Of course not, dear friend." The two were in smiles, nearly to the point of laughter.

"Well, from whom do you attempt to hide, this time?"

"Who said I was to hide from someone?" He gave no response. "I suppose this is often to happen, but do you recall what next week is?"

"How does that-" Mr. Zabini looked at the finger placed upon his lips, halting his inquiry.

"Quiet."

"What has come over you?"

"Whisper."

"Why?"

"I heard footsteps."

"Quickly. Into the wardrobe."

"You _still_ have a wardrobe in your drawing room?"

"Disregard that for the moment. I am _trying_ to help you."

"With your collection of garments, I will never be able to fit comfortably."

"Hush. It's practically a closet for you. Considering you don't even reach my shoulders."

"Put me down."

"Get in the wardrobe, now."

"But I will surely-" Mr. Zabini quickly closed the doors, successfully forcing his companion inside. Taking care to do so with as little noise as his haste would permit.

"And I wondery why I do such things for him. And oft with no logical occasion."

"Such things you do for whom, Mr. Zabini?" Startled by the airy voice, he glanced nervously at the woman who now stood beside him. Her posture rigid and her arms folded surreptitiously atop her breast.

"Why Mrs. Malfoy...What an unexpected, yet nonetheless delightful pleasure to have you this afternoon." As he became flustered, he could not discern if it stemmed from anger or embarrassment.

"Please, Blaise. You may call me Narcissa."


	3. Part the Third

Blaise, in his present state confounded, did poorly to conceal the wardrobe in front of which he stood. And he had no desire to imagine the comical visualisation he must provide.

He knew precisely why and how she came to be in his drawing room. Yet it did little to placate his trepidation. Whether he could deem it as psychosis later, he found himself inwardly chuckling at the prospect of Mrs. Malfoy discovering whom he was attempting to hide.

Though, he knew she already had an excellent idea that would soon prove correct.

Because compared to his mother, Draco, for lack of a better euphemism, was harmless. Not to deem his friend was frail or anything of the sort, but the euphemism worked more in favour of Mrs. Malfoy rather than her son.

Quite unsettled he was in this uncommon matter of circumstance. "_Narcissa_." He said the name carefully; still delicate in its novelty. "I always did find your name to be most lovely and quite pleasing upon my tongue. I am honoured you would give me the opportunity to regard you in such an intimate manner."

"As I am much obliged you would welcome me into your haven on such impromptu notice." Her face seemed less daunting, now. As she knew there would be no hindrance in her intention.

"Of course, Blaise, you _did_ anticipate my reasoning for coming and the fact that I know where he is."

"And nothing less, Narcissa. Principally from a woman of your calibre." He was in a most precarious situation. Obligated to the wishes of his friend and compelled by the will of his friend's mother.

Thus Blaise Zabini did the only thing any self-respecting young man would do in order to protect his most favoured companion.

Or rather himself, as he became no longer an obstruction between Mrs. Malfoy and her son. Well aware that Draco could see him through the door of the wardrobe, which was now slightly ajar.

"Blaise, you timorous _knave_." Albeit the voice was muffled, it was Draco's only acknowledgement of his troubles.

"Draco, I would prefer you not to make use of such rhetoric in either my presence or where your friend is concerned." Opening the doors, she made a move to expose her son, who sat comfortable among the clothes.

"You may now take your leave, Mr. Zabini." Her dismissal signalled the halt to such warming pleasantries, however much a facade they truly were. And Blaise was once more to refer to her as Mrs. Malfoy. He knew her sudden request was used only as a means to upset him, but he could hold no rancour on account of her actions.

Conversely, in the defence of his friend, Blaise was almost hesitant to depart. But the unexpected weight that found itself in his pocket did amiably to quell any reservation.

Coward he may be, but destitute fool he was not.

Happily, he took his leave whilst counting the notes he had recently been given. Blaise would now be able to purchase the most recent instalment in the series, continuing the novel he was reading before Draco's interruption.

Narcissa gave no more notice to Blaise's departure, focussed on the young man barely visible beneath the array of clothing. "My dear child, do you not tire of returning here?"

"Certainly not. If at least in the hopes that you will one day fail to search for me in this particular place."

"Your lack of resourcefulness will without doubt be your demise. Must you be so histrionic in your actions where it concerns your mother?"

"Please do not be affronted, mother. I am rarely inconsistent in my actions and my behaviour applies to everyone. Do you remember my tailor?"

"Which one? I recall you have had several."

"Yes, but this one was the most recent father assigned to me. His name was Zacharias something or another."

"A Mr. Smith, I presume. Was it not but a fortnight since he was employed?"

"I believe so. I do not think I relieved him of his duty on this juncture, however."

"He designated you a "demonic nuisance," did he not? I recall how your father was unusually unreserved in his amusement."

"Mother, please refrain. I am afraid you embarrass me." Though of what little she could see of her son, there was nothing to suggest he was even remotely self-conscious.

"You are never shy, my love. And speaking of which, how fares your newest tailor? Mr. Weaning is his name?"

"We have yet to encounter, and neither have I taken the initiative to determine his name."

"Then I would have you do it more promptly than to which you are accustomed."

"Pardon me?"

"Out of the wardrobe, with you." Narcissa moved closer as Draco retreated further within the wardrobe.

"But _mother_…"

"But _Draco_…"

"You are incorrigible."

"I find it curious that your father is frequent to feel the same. But let us not linger any longer. You are to be fitted for this lovely piece I found in the most wonderful little boutique."

"I absolutely refuse to be dressed as a-"

"Why were you hiding from your mother, Draco?" There was a shimmer in her eyes of which Draco found himself fearing. He was quick to leave the safety of his friend's garments and reposition himself to his mother's side.

"Oh mother, we mustn't tarry any longer than necessary. Let us find Mr. Wendesly."

* * *

_Thanks for reading and **Lirial's secret** and **unforgivable curse castor** for_ _reviewing. I was acutally surprised someone liked this. Just a note, as this will be rather short, updates will come pretty fast. As is the pace of this fic. Harry and Draco will finally be meeting in the next chapter._


	4. Part the Fourth

Lifting her small piece of luggage, Ms. Granger peered uneasily at her surroundings. "It certainly is…_busy_."

"And you expected a sort of tranquillity, I suppose." Mr .Potter smiled guilefully at his companion's restless behaviour. "While it was indeed I who affected our reposition, are you not the one who pursued this location?"

"Perhaps I may have been a bit delusional where my romantic notions are concerned." The resonance of laughter and irrelevant conversation mingled among the disjointed cadence of horses and carts were no less than a cacophony to her ears. "Nonetheless, despite my initial perceptions and your need to dwell upon them, we are here."

"It is laden with the elite. The _aristocracy_." His tone was that of genuine awe. "It shall be an honour and a privilege to work amongst the privileged."

"I should have known you were to be clandestine in your objective. As a matter of course, Mr. Potter, you are most disinclined to disclose any such variations of the truth."

He responded with a most inane expression upon his face. "But for a man of my _profession_, is it not quite the means by which I should live?"

"Mr. Potter you are inebriated if you believe any such activity of yours, laudable of the word. However, it is not me to which you need pander."

"I shall take a leaf from your book, my friend, and say I am under the influence on life and the chance to start anew."

"Wanting the least bit common sense. Tell me dear friend, where are we to be housed?"

"Why, wherever we are to be found."

"What are your intentions, Mr. Potter?"

Ms. Granger was quite taken back by the mischievousness in his voice. "Shall we go into town and discover?"

* * *

Was he never to be spared? Had he not enough humility to last his life and then some? Yet, here he was – the ever loyal and unwilling companion. Surely he had learned his lesson in the span of their friendship.

"Mr. Zabini, over here." Maybe if he feigned an illness due to an absent sun, he would not be forced to be _here._ However, he did have an obligation. One that would not permit him to disregard Mr. Malfoy's _request_ that he see to his errant child.

A dreadful thing to be held beneath the Mr. Malfoy's sway.

"Quickly, Mr. Zabini." He knew Ms. Parkinson had quite the idea, retreating to the Nott cottage with her fiancé. Perhaps neither Pansy nor Theodore would have taken offence to his presence?

"What in - Mr. Malfoy." Mr. Zabini's arm was at the mercy off its captor. "I demand that you release me this instant. And do not try to purse your lips at me, my friend. It may have worked in the past-"

"Yesterday?"

"But not today."

His revolt at being held was met with tasteless hilarity. "Yes, you clearly are Mr. Zabini."

"Please Draco, I beg of you. Never compare your friend to his fifty-two year old father."

"Then you shall come when I beckon." Mr. Zabini refused to acknowledge such an arrogant demand.

"All right, when I ask for you." And Mr. Malfoy's subsequent request, as well.

"_Honestly_. Will you allow me to present my mother's gift?"

"With such a gracious offer, what kind of friend would I be to decline?"

"You are truly hopeless, Blaise."

"I've said the same of you many a time, Draco." He wrinkled his nose, looking in question at his arm, which remained gripped by two hands.

An action Mr. Malfoy followed. "No, I will not release you as your thoughts will eventually ensue to a certain-to-be former Ms. Parkinson."

"You know my thoughts are only pervaded by you."

"Please save the flattery for my mother. And my father, also. If you are not to take much offence at my request? For he will surely disown me when he discovers the value of my purchase."

"What could be so costly that it would subsist above the gamut of the Malfoy fortune?"

"I haven't a mind to tell. But it is of utmost importance to me."

"I have yet to understand this queer convention between you and your mother. You - of all people - giving your mother a present on _your_ birthday. It's a bit philanthropic for a Malfoy."

Draco took his friend's acquiescence in complete stride. "Do you call me _selfish_?"

"Although I normally am, I wouldn't be so brusque in your circumstance. _Egotistic_ is more the word that comes to mind."

"Which puts things in perspective." Draco keenly navigated through the busy streets. Pulling a protesting Blaise, who tried desperately to sustain a comfortable speed alongside his him. "But no matter, it's just about this corner."

* * *

And what a sight that was set before him. A most gorgeous specimen.

Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger were quite fortunate to find a suitable inn that would house them comfortably without too high a demand. And the two found themselves browsing the congested streets.

Or rather, Ms. Granger found herself abiding by her companion's fancy.

"Mr. Potter, is there something the matter?"

"Do you not see, Ms. Granger? During the course of my consequential life, I have never-"

"Oh my, Mr. Potter. I do believe I understand, now. But is he not a bit younger than your usual fancy?"

Mr. Potter faced his companion befuddled. "What do you mean _he_? You and your bluestocking ideals – _She_ is beautiful and ripe for my delicate phalanges."

"You mean your avaricious fingers and your malodorous toes."

He smiled at her mock distaste. "But my dear, are they not the same which warm your bed?"

"Remove yourself, you beast." Laughing heartily, the two interlocked arms.

"That may prove to be improbable. I am afraid I need you for the most recent act of this devious play."

"But would my presence not hinder you?"

"Nonsense, Ms. Granger. This is not the time to undermine yourself. This may even be our biggest escapade, yet."

"Why would you need me to break another young prospect?"

"You know I hold situations such as this with the utmost adoration. And in this particular matter you will hold central, and I am adamant in your participation to play upon a most fundamental theme." His eyes were creased in concentration, watching her in earnest. Ms. Granger's brow turned into a most unsightly frown. "You do not mean to say you are-"

"Do not say. I do not want to hear any more of this particular conversation if it is to move in such an absurd direction. I am simply curious in your change of heart."

"Are you sure you are not the least bit resentful of my attention focussed elsewhere? Because I assure you, I am the same dirty scoundrel you have grown to love."

"Then why the sudden interest in my opposite of sex?"

"Hermione, I…" Harry was confused. She knew his infatuation with precious jewels. It was a continual tease between them. Hence he had no impression as to the cause of her odd behaviour. "I will not dally upon it, but you know I find the misjudged fragility - the misconception of strength - immensely feminine."

She looked over his shoulder, which Mr. Potter thought another look at his current aspiration. But she was looking at the figure of whom she thought Harry spoke. Obviously a male, but perhaps her companion had too much alcohol in the carriage.

"Please do not have your mouth open in some sort of astounding response. For it makes even you look unappealing, Ms. Granger."

"Very well. However, I will not be the one to again pick up _his_ pieces."

Her only response was a sigh, to which she took as a plea to release the misunderstanding for the time being. "And may I ask specifically how I may be a crucial element in your latest disaster in waiting?"

"Did you know that I am in need of the most spectacular present to bestow upon my wife for our first-year anniversary?"

* * *

"See? I told you it would be marvellous." Mr. Malfoy viewed the diamond proudly.

Mr. Zabini certainly saw the beauty of it. Yet it did little to change the fact. "On the contrary, I remember being taken against my will without so much as an indication to where I was being taken."

"Honestly, Blaise, you have more melodramatic tendencies than I do in my index finger."

"Yes, I admit I have had another of my moments, Mr. Zabini, but I'm not as daft as I appear."

"Blaise, do not look at me as if I had said something entirely senseless."

"I'll have you know-"

"Mr. Malfoy, on a more serious scandal, how could you afford something like this without your father's money?" He sighed as he saw Draco turn away from him.

"That's why I was hoping-"

"Draco, I cannot-"

"Of course I do not ask of you anything of monetary value, Mr. Zabini. I am, after all, a _Malfoy_. We do not accept charity." Mr. Zabini looked curiously at his companion, who was seemingly distracted. "Of any kind."

"Draco?" Mr. Zabini moved to assist his friend, but found himself attending no one. His friend nearing the entrance of the shop.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Malfoy paused in his leave, which Mr. Zabini saw as a sporadic change in demeanour. Such a shift in personality. Then again, he was quite positive his friend had many of the aforementioned.

That was unquestionable.

"Do you not see, Blaise? Coming from the tailor shop?"

"Wait a moment, Draco."

* * *

_I suppose the confrontation finally occurs in the next incident. And chapter is now fixed._


	5. Part the Fifth

Luckily, Blaise was able to detain Draco before anything dismal was to occur. As Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy would certainly hold him accountable for it.

Draco peered at his friend curiously. "Blaise…"

"Draco, if I had not the sense to act quickly, you would have abandoned me. A ludicrous spectacle for which I would solely be held culpable."

"I do sincerely apologise, my friend." And Blaise noted he did appear to be the least bit penitent in regards to his actions. "I do not know what came over me."

"Are you sure you are well?" If Draco was ill, his mother and father…Blaise did not wish to envision what would lie ahead if it were to be true. "You've not become ill, have you? Oh please say no."

"Be concerned not, for it is really of little matter."

"Surely, even as I do tease, you are not one to behave in such an impetuous manner. And this most recent incident has given me cause to be concerned."

"I simply had been mistaken in my judgement. No more. You know better than to give me much heed, Blaise."

But therein lay the problem. It was either watch Draco or be subjected to his father. Similar to the earlier instance in which he compared Draco to his mother, it was no surprise as to which Blaise chose.

Draco, taking note of his friend's distraction, anticipated a much lighter discourse. "Let us obtain the jewellery for my Mother. We may then engage in another favour. Father assigned a new tailor for me and Mother insists that I am to be fitted."

"Yes, your mother was fairly adamant as she relayed a similar message onto me."

"Do not dwell upon it, Blaise. For my sake, if you will."

"I shall try my best. Conversely, I make no promises where it concerns your welfare."

"Then I shall ask that you neither tell mother nor father. I fear what the repercussions of my actions, if they were to be found, would encroach upon what little freedom I am allotted."

"You are not restrained in your autonomy, Draco." Blaise wilted at the expression he received from his friend. "It is possible there is _some_ restriction in your regards. But I am not sure as to what it is I could say that would offer you respite."

"You need naught not take it as a personal affront as it is no fault of yours."

"Surely it could not be dreadful as when Severus was to shadow you?"

"Hardly. Mother often remarks upon the pleasant shift in my disposition as a result of being in your company."

"Draco…" Blaise found himself quite flattered by the praise. As well as surprised by the unwonted sentiment from the other man.

"Which brings me to the nature of my dubious freedoms. Would you mind rescheduling my appointment with the tailor?"

Blaise gazed at his friend with care, his face contorted in confusion. "For what reasons?"

"I only wish to participate in something purely superfluous that in no means would interest you."

"Draco, you know I am not to leave you alone."

"You, yourself, agree that I am eighteen years of age and understand the disagreement concerning my predicament. And I am your equal, if I may also add. I simply do not understand why my parents find the need to coddle me when I am clearly a man."

"I do understand your frustrations, my friend. However, I am most hesitant-"

"Is it because what father said to you? Please do not take him too seriously, as he tends to be quite dramatic on occasion." To this Blaise scoffed. Draco spoke as if forgot that it was with Mr. Malfoy, whom he share his genes.

"And I promise I shall not tell a soul of your wonderful generosity."

Blaise sighed dejectedly, not having the heart to repudiate his friend of so many years. "But it will not take me very long. And do promise me that you will remain here?"

"Of course, Blaise. I promise I will wait for you."

"I say this in absolute earnest, Draco. Because though the threat of your father looms constantly, it is not me for whom I worry."

* * *

Absolutely smitten, as Ms. Granger would say. 

He was in complete rapture. Set before him was the fruit that would be the consequence of his hard labour. And a welcome addition to his initial task.

"I have seen the expression which you currently wear in copious amounts, Mr. Potter."

"Was he of whom you spoke before, when I misunderstood completely?"

"_Harry_."

"Hermione."

She found herself horribly anxious of the distant tone in his voice. "No Harry, did you not hear the words of his companion?"

"Words?" Harry was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that the conversation of the two men did not persist well in his thoughts. Heavily outweighed by his fascination with the more eminent of the two.

The man with hair flaxen pulled neatly to the back with a bow. The length reaching just below the crook of his shoulders. Harry could not see the face, but perhaps if the man were to veer a bit to the right.

"His name is Mr. _Malfoy_." Harry was genuinely confused, reluctantly turning to face Hermione for an explanation of sorts. "As in belonging to one of the most influential families in England."

"I fear the name brings nothing to mind."

"Or you find it of great convenience to not bring it to your attention. It's horrid enough that you wish us to pretend to be an engaged couple in an attempt to embezzle a diamond necklace."

"I prefer to call it _subtle bargaining_ if the play is performed appropriately. You need not fret in regards to your necessary presence, as of now. The act shall begin after the prologue. I simply request to introduce ourselves, or at least my calamitous position as a husband with no suitable gift. The play itself should not take too long. A mere two weeks at best."

"And how are you to convince the jeweller of your _true_ intentions?"

"How is it they say? Try and buy, I believe?"

"But you forget a crucial factor, Mr. Potter. If someone were purchase to your necklace…"

"Ms. Granger, why, I do believe you doubt this man's social capability and evident endowments."

"I have said it many a time, however, I find myself saying it once more." She appeared to Mr. Potter to be in true distain. "Your self-appraised wit will do you more harm than good."

"I ask you to do nothing, Ms. Granger. With his companion now gone, the play shall commence. Merely watch the act unfold."

Ms. Granger could not be bothered to watch her companion saunter away. "What assertion you have, Mr. Potter." She resisted the urge to sigh as Mr. Potter made his way to the jeweller's. Finding it better to busy herself on a brief journey to the tailor shop.

Her attention caught by a familiar face and red hair.

* * *

Mr. Potter studied the man with a most peculiar countenance. Of which the man found quite invasive. "May I ask as to why you find the need to place yourself in such close proximity to me?" 

"Dear fellow, surely you think too highly of yourself? For my eyes are only upon the most gorgeous vision I have seen in my humble existence." And as he naturally spoke of the cased diamond necklace that lay between them, Mr. Potter could not help but ponder at the man across him.

"As I am not one to concern myself with any unwarranted praise, then yes, I quite agree with you. Though, this may be last occasion in which you are to see of it."

"And may I inquire as to why?"

"Because I have purchased this _most gorgeous vision_, as you quite eloquently put it."

Mr. Potter looked at the man in confusion. He could be no older than he, and yet he has the means by which to purchase such an expensive gem?

He was more than accordingly dismayed. He and Ms. Granger had left their entire lives, however unsalvageable they were, to covet such a treasure. And based upon no more than his whim.

However, Mr. Potter would compensate with a new machination coming to mind. As the man before him was an intriguing character, perhaps he would be able to escape with more than a simple jewel.

"Forgive me, for I have no intent to seem rude, but may I also inquire your age."

"If I may inquiry your reason as to why you are in need of such delicate information?"

"I am simply curious. I mean no ill, but it appears you are of no more than twenty summers."

"I certainly deem you are more than simply curious."

Mr. Potter gave a most charming smile. "I am afraid you have invoked a certain spark within me." That only widened at the sight of the beatific blush on the cheeks of the man before him. "I have a proposition for you, if you are not to mind?"

"I do not even know you; much less do I recognise your face being amongst my neighbours."

"And where are my manners? Please forgive your fellow man, for he is likely to be distracted easily." Mr. Potter was properly contrite at his apparent lack of propriety.

"My name is Harry Potter." He took a small bow, his eyes never leaving the other man. "May I have the honour of your name, good sir?"

Draco peered over the man's shoulder nervously. "Draco Malfoy." Despite the fact that he was indeed somehow drawn to the man. To the Mr. Potter who also responsible for his earlier incident, he wished Blaise were to come to his rescue. For it was a situation in which he'd never been.

"More exotic than to what I have been exposed, yet a treasure, nonetheless." And a situation that was increasingly becoming more uncomfortable.

"You have not heard of my name?"

"Am I to have heard of it? Forgive me for my lack of knowledge concerning your position. Though I am quite sure it is some sort of nobility. I extend my most sincere apologies."

Mr. Malfoy's inherent shyness was moved by Mr. Potter's lack of recognition. The Malfoy name was well renowned in England and much of Europe. "Then I find myself most offended if you are not to know of me."

Mr. Potter was surprised at the sudden change the other man's demeanour. Had he not seen the brush of scarlet on his cheeks but moments before?

"Mr. Malfoy?" Mr. Potter refrained from displaying the annoyance in his face. It would do no good for a gentleman to behave in such a manner. "Then do give me the honour and have me compensate for my lack of propriety towards you." Mr. Malfoy was not to be an impediment, no matter how intriguing his character.

"I propose we encounter at Bott's tea shop on the morrow? I will be more than delighted to handle any expenses."

But Mr. Potter noted that this seemed to irritate Mr. Malfoy even further, the politeness in his tone becoming quite forced.

"Are you insinuating that I am not one to afford something as trivial as tea and biscuits, Mr. Potter?"

And Mr. Potter was becoming quite incensed himself. Barely able to force a smile upon his face, as he knew it probably appeared heavily strained. "My good sir, I simply plea that you allow me to treat you in lieu of any offence I may have given you. I do not seek to humiliate you or anything of such likening." Mr. Potter was not ready to bow upon his knees, even as he desired his initial prize. However, menial begging was not above him. "I implore you to allow me such a privilege."

Mr. Malfoy looked about uncertain as the store owner, Mr. Lupin, was beginning to look upon them quite strangely.

And he promised Blaise he would make no scene.

"If you wish it. Although-"

"I am immensely pleased you have accepted my offer, Mr. Malfoy. And I can assure you the decision will be well merited."

"Mr. Potter…"

"How does noon sound to you?"

Mr. Malfoy found himself quite distracted by the other man's enthusiasm. "I suppose…"

"Splendid. I shall see you, then?" Mr. Potter watched as Mr. Malfoy nodded. "I'm afraid I must now take my leave, but it was certainly a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy. Until tomorrow."

Draco watched as Mr. Potter left. Blaise passing the man with an accusatory stare, to which the latter paid no heed. "I heard someone speak your name. Were you conversing with a stranger, Draco?"

"We were simply exchanging pleasantries."

"You gave him your name?"

"Out of courtesy, Blaise. For he gave me his own, and I complied when he asked of mine."

"If your father were to find out…" Blaise was already shown his lavished gravestone among the Malfoy Mausoleum. _Personal_ compliments of Mr. Malfoy.

"As I said earlier, you worry too much, my friend. He did not even know who I was, which did much to incense me, but we simply spoke of our shared interest in my Mother's necklace."

But if Mr. Malfoy was not to be aware of this incident…"Are you not to retrieve your mother's gift."

"Oh, quite right. Thank you for reminding me."

"Draco…"

He hoped he could successfully assure his friend. He had to find a means to the tea shop, tomorrow. Preferably without his parents' knowledge or his friend's presence. For there was something about Mr. Potter that did well to irk him, yet at the same time he found himself enticed by the man.

"Nothing is amiss, Blaise."


	6. Part the Sixth

At the creaking of the door, Ms. Granger was drawn from her novel. She set it upon the small desk beside the bed, gathering her skirt in order to stand.

It was Mr. Potter. With a positively lascivious smile upon his face. And if Ms. Granger were one to ever take her friend seriously, she would do right to be vexed by his current countenance.

"I apologise for my late arrival, Ms. Granger."

"It is of no trouble, Mr. Potter." She watched as he closed the door behind him.

"Of that, I am quite relieved to hear." He removed his coat, placing it upon the bedstead. "The thought of your position in this arrangement has been lingering the whole of the afternoon."

"I knew I would be burdened with your presence soon enough."

"I do believe I take that as umbrage to my person." He positioned himself on the bed, encouraging her to sit beside him. "However, I know you only make such declarations out of concern for my well-being."

"As you say, Mr. Potter."

"As I do say, Ms. Granger." He paused, looking carefully at her features. Taking a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "I trust your journey here agreeable."

"Apart from the unsettling lack of lewd commentary concerning our temporary housing arrangement, my experience has been quite pleasant, thus far."

"You speak of it as if it were such a horrid thing."

"I admit I was not expecting the racy characters that I have had the good fortune to encounter in East End."

"I beg to differ." Mr. Potter leaned slightly upon her shoulder, sparing a lecherous grin. "In defence of the many a passageway that had become a way of pleasure for many a night."

"I dare say these experiences were limited to only your gamut. Your impression of pleasure has yet to be fully determined."

"Ah." Mr. Potter's eyes were widened, the shade of green in his irises enhanced by his eyeglasses. "But what is fun if it is not to be had?"

"Even so, I am grateful you have come to your senses, if only for a brief moment."

"I did notify you of our reservations beforehand."

"I suppose I should be surprised, but your vocation does warrant such attentiveness."

"And as you do well to broach the topic of my vocation, I do believe I have found an ambiguity to our problem."

"_Our_ problem? Mr. Potter, I beseech you. Give me no part in this." She moved to collect her novel, intent on dismissing any more foolish notions that were to happen from her companion.

"But this may be my greatest ambition, yet." He seized her novel before she had the opportunity to do so, holding it tantalisingly in his grasp and just within her reach. Knowing that out of propriety, she would not go to a great extent in order to retrieve it.

"It will not suit you well to use your machinations upon the Malfoy family." Her eyes reflected annoyance as her gaze travelled from her novel to her companion. "Especially upon their youngest. No, I am afraid this will not do if I am to be involved. And mind you, I have no intention to place myself in such a precarious position."

"He has siblings?" The notion certainly intrigued him.

"Rather he had." She motioned. "He was the only child that did survive. Hence they are duly protective of him."

"Do you worry for my safety or theirs, Ms. Granger?" Although his tone belayed jest, Mr. Potter could not help but to feel somewhat perturbed by her lack of faith in him. Or rather her sudden and unwonted concern for the uninformed participants.

"Be not one to have misgivings so easily, Mr. Potter. Particularly where I am involved." She reached for his hand, holding it gently within her own palms. "Do you overlook my own repute as an only child? And not due to the lack of attempts from my parents."

"No more than I overlook my own upbringing as a waif."

"Can you understand that I simply worry for you? I do not wish for you to one day find yourself overwhelmed."

"Then think nothing of it, and the time shall not come." He reassured with a jovial expression.

Ms. Granger found herself tittering softly. She thought it highly uncouth but could not help but to be amused and quite taken by her friend. "Mr. Potter, what ever am I to do with you?"

"Why, whatever you deem most congenial, Ms. Granger."

"Harry," Ms. Granger had to compose herself, resisting the beginnings of a lingering smile. "Don't have him become another conquest for you." She looked at him seriously. "I have heard varying accounts and the child, though man he may appear to be is heavily sheltered."

"All the more reason to act because of the lessened complication."

"But is the potential jeopardy one of such great importance? The consequence would be beyond even you if your true intentions were to be exposed." Ms. Granger spoke before Mr. Potter could properly respond. "I would like for you deliberate on this matter. Be conscious of your assessment, for my sake at least if not your very own."

She scrutinised the man next to her, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. Ms. Granger was only to wait mere moments before Mr. Potter decided to react.

"You think I wish to bed a man?" He looked at her incredulously, concluding her perception of his objective.

"In the past, you have not been hindered by the sex of a person."

"While it may not be publicly condemned, neither is it overtly accepted. And to which case, you understand that I much rather prefer to converge with a female body, Ms. Granger."

"I also understand that your preferences have yet to be an obstacle for you, Mr. Potter."

* * *

"Did you not reschedule as I have asked?" Mr. Malfoy turned to Mr. Zabini, sincere curiosity upon his features. "Have you done something of which I am unaware? Because Mr. Wedsley has yet to be at hand." 

"I did nothing. I assure you that he shall arrive promptly."

Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini were in wait for the tailor, of which the name of whom they were fairly insensible. They both stood impatiently in a lounge room in the Malfoy Manor. Behind them were two rather comfortable chairs, each with accommodating ottomans.

"It must be well past four. Was he not to come at four?"

Mr. Zabini glanced at the electric clock placed upon Pembroke table in between the two chairs. "It is only a quarter until four. If anything he shall be early."

Mr. Malfoy's reply was accompanied by a scoff. "I did hope Mr. Welsely would take an initiative and have a better sense of responsibility. The situation leaves me to believe he knows naught of the arrangement."

"I think his name Mr. Wensley. And the man to whom I spoke said the rescheduling was acceptable. Why are you in such haste?"

"No particular reason."

"Now I have sufficient cause to be wary of the expression on your face."

Mr. Malfoy was puzzled by the Mr. Zabini's conclusion. "What did I say that justified such a harsh supposition?"

"Nothing until your most recent comment. It was nothing short of an admission."

Mr. Malfoy appeared dismayed at his reasoning and made no move to counter the accusation.

"Furthermore, the fact that you do not denounce my claims assures me that you must be withholding something."

"I am simply anxious to be finished with this form of torture. I am consigned more than once a year to be fitted for new garments. For once, I only wish to forgo such persecution."

"Your mother only wishes you to have the finest in clothing. Is it nothing by which to be affronted or in your case, unappreciative."

"I shall not be likened to a dandy, Mr. Zabini. Unlike _you_, I do not spend much time fretting over my appearance."

Mr. Zabini saw through the obvious taunt, understanding of his friend's plight. "You mother has more than likely ordered a frock coat. I overheard her complaining that your current one is far too short."

"Mother holds little sentiment for the prevailing fashions. She and Father have yet to realise that we no longer live in the year eighteen hundred and sixty-two."

"Likewise have they yet to realise that many of your frocks you have had been bespoken upon your request." Mr. Zabini took hold of the hems of his own frock coat, fingering the hems. "Not to mention the numerous times you made it an undertaking to tailor you own."

"The later ensued but once when I was thirteen. I had no such desire to even attempt to wear such dress by means of a morning coat."

"Unless it is double-breasted?"

"Of which she does not approve."

"I must redress your misguided notion of a frock coat equating to one's status of a dandy. Your mother is severely adamant that your frock coats do not have a chest pocket in which to sport a pocket square."

"Speaking of which, I do hope she does not insist that I wear a cravat for the festivities."

"Of course she will, but at least she allows you wear one in the style of the Mail Coach. You have said you prefer it to other varieties."

"As ostentatious as it is, I do find my variation of it a bit charming. But only in the winter when its bulky and cumbersome nature is encouraged to decrease the effects of the weather."

Mr. Zabini looked toward Mr. Malfoy, intent on mocking his favouring of such a ruffian sort of tie. "I do concur despite the fact that your mother is not too fond of it. Conversely, it is perilously close to summer."

"I used to have this ridiculous notion that should Father purchase for me a Norfolk jacket, he would be more likely to take me hunting."

"I doubt your father would take it upon himself to do so even if he was to procure one for you."

"You have quite the inclination to make such critical remarks."

"Your father would rather you have a penny-farthing than let you been seen adorned with a Norfolk jacket."

"Father despises those contraptions. Though I have no idea as to why."

"And that is precisely my point. I'm afraid I must take a stance to support your father concerning this matter. I do agree that they are quite dangerous."

"I still do not see how."

"Do you recall my cousin, Seamus? He made a visit from Ireland last year."

"Yes. I do not believe myself capable of forgetting quite an ornery man."

"Those abrasions decorating his right arm were the result of an accident that involved the same contraction you seem to favour."

"Your argument has been taken, Mr. Zabini. Nonetheless, if I am to be fitted for another frock coat I-" He was not to finish his ultimatum, interrupted by a succession of three knocks upon the frame of the door.

Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini's attention was given to a willowy man in simple attire consisting of a white collared shirt and a grey pair of trousers. He carried a small bag, presumably for his supplies. However, it was his vibrant autumn hair that garnered most of the attention.

Which was immediately lost following the man's expression of the English language.

" 'ello gents."

Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini could not help but cringe at the obviously northern accent. "Sorry for me lateness, but it's such a good day outside, in'it?"

Hoping to shorten the encounter, Mr. Malfoy made a notion to begin the required pleasantries. "Quite so Mr…"

"Ronald Weasley at your service." Mr. Weasley took an inflated bow.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, Mr. Blaise Zabini." He nodded at them respectively. "Hope you don't mind me calling your by your first names, as well. I don't want to liken you to your fathers."

"You know my name?" Mr. Malfoy asked, as few of his father's employers were than knowledgeable.

"I would think it good of me if I were to know the son's name of me own employer. And let me tell you a bit of a story as to why.

"A good chap once goes up and says to me: _Do you know what you call the man who don't know his employer's name_?"

His audience simply shook their heads in the negative, clearly unfamiliar with the tale.

"I says to 'im that I don't know." Mr. Weasley peered at the two eagerly, his lips thinned and curled. "And you know what 'e says to me?" Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini were peculiarly expectant, quite taken by the tale.

"Out of 'is job." Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini watched helplessly as the man took it upon himself to jovially laugh at his own musings.

"That's when you know it's 'aw gone Pete Tong by then."

Mr. Zabini, in an attempt to remedy the traumatised expression that had appeared on his friend and also noticeable by the tightening grasp on his coat sleeve, lured the conversation in a much more familiar direction. "Then are you to hold a position of permanence as his tailor?" Unbeknownst to Mr. Weasley, both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini knew the implication of knowing their names.

"Until otherwise noted. But let's get started on the right foot, eh?"

Mr. Malfoy found himself in quiet musings. For even Mr. Potter knew not of him beforehand. Perhaps Mr. Wenlesy was not to be such a horrid acquaintance. However degrading is northern accent may be. "Mr. Wedsely-"

"It's Weasley, good sir."

"Oh right. My apologies, Mr Weasley." Mr. Malfoy made the correction dismissively. He never did make the names of his tailors that of great import. "But do you happen to know the specific garment for which you are to take my measurements?"

"A frock coat if I'm right. So this ain't gonna take long." Mr. Weasley gently placed his small bag on the floor, making a move to rummage through its contents.

"However, before you begin…"

Mr. Malfoy looked at his friend peculiarly whilst Mr. Weasley halted his movements to give his complete attention. "Something you need to know, Mr. Zabini?"

"Yes, if you do not mind. May I ask from where it is you hail?"

Mr. Weasley gave a smile that was in brilliance, comparable to the colour of his hair. "Wit'in earshot of Bow Bells."

* * *

_I do not wish to make any assumptions as to what people do or do not know, but just to be on the safe side:_

_- Spelling out the year seems a bit antiquated, but I am under the impression it is how they would say the year, and I wished to correctly convey that._

_- A cravat is likened to an ascot. The mail coach is one of the styles popular at the times. An elaborated scarf that was tucked in. Also known as the waterfall._

_- A penny-farthing is precursor of the bicycle with an enormous front wheel._

_- "Within Earshot of Bow Bells" Tradition has it that to be a true cockney, you must be born within earshot of the sound of the church's bells. I give credit to Ron in the next chapter, but I just adore messing with cockney accents._


	7. Part the Seventh

"'ow are you, Ms. Granger?"

Ms. Granger turned, quickly setting down her novel to tend to her guest, who was now making his way through the entryway of the room. "Does Mr. Potter know of your presence here, Mr. Weasley?"

"I reckon not, Ms. Granger if you weren't to tell 'im."

"Please do rid yourself of that dreadful cockney accent. It is quite appalling when you have no true purpose for it." She overlooked the complacency shown on his face. "I do believe I have suffered enough during our six month foray in London."

"Quite a shame, really. It was the first time I stumbled upon you and Mr. Potter."

"And obviously not the last. Nevertheless, I did not inform your brother in delinquency of your presence."

"For that small luxury, I am grateful for your consideration. I did desire to surprise him myself." He spared a laugh as he took a seat beside her.

"You certainly surprised me. At first I did not believe it was you when I came into the shop." She leaned forward in her chair. "However did you accomplish the position of a tailor with that intonation?"

"Not with my patron, but it does help assure misdirected assumptions of me. Otherwise, rarely do I make use of it."

"Unless you wish to tease me, I expect."

"Because it is seldom when I find myself able to do so, Ms. Granger."

Ms. Granger delayed her response, a slight rosy colouration appearing on her cheeks. "Back to the matter at hand, I was in hopes that you would present yourself to Mr. Potter earlier."

"I apologise that I was not able to speak fully or convene with you yesterday. I was detained due to a scheduling alteration. I had to take a personal appointment to the Malfoy Manor-"

"You were in attendance in the Malfoy Manor?" Ms. Granger found herself in a momentary daze. "You have a correlation with the Malfoy family, as well?"

"What do you mean _as well_?" Mr. Weasley looked upon her in confusion.

"Mr. Potter has also betrayed his interest with the Malfoy family. How the two of you have managed to correspond with such an affluent force in society is nothing short of an outrageous concurrence."

"Mr. Potter and I are truly two of a kind." As astonished as Ms. Granger seemed to be, Mr. Weasley found the matter stimulating. "Perhaps this is an occasion of destiny…By which we are truly with fortune."

"To do as you please, I'm sure." Ms. Granger said. "Both you and Mr. Potter are absolutely inveterate."

"Mr. Potter and I are merely opportunists in a world of opportunity."

"If Mr. Potter finds it amusing to lead people into false security by means of his charm, you are much worse to overtly deride them."

Mr. Weasley simply laughed. "You do much to flatter me Ms. Granger. I am quite sure Mr. Potter has quite often relayed upon you the same?"

"In his most recent performance."

"And how does it involve the Malfoy family? I make it a habit of mine to know of whose services my employer makes use, and I found no trace of Mr. Potter."

"It is more of a circuitous involvement. He proposed that I play his fiancé in order to pillage a diamond necklace."

"No different from his usual fancy, I suppose. Is that why you were in town? To see the jeweller, Mr. Lupin?"

"Yes, but I shall expound upon that notion, Mr. Weasley. Last night, he imparted to me that the necklace has already been purchased."

"Then this is truly new territory. And upon such stakes." Mr. Weasley looked awed. "His other investments have been all quite valuable and rarely does he stray into personal matters. However, a diamond is certainly something."

"I think this well beyond him."

"I harbour no objection. Even as Mr. Potter has been self-employed for far longer than I have, I am wary of this _play_, as he is partial to call them."

"Mr. Potter is set upon obtaining the necklace through the young Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?"

"You have already met?"

"Yes, I was to take his measurements. But you truly do not say Mr. Potter intends to achieve the necklace through the young Malfoy? Even I know better than place myself in such a plight."

"My thoughts precisely. However, he informed me that he could not recall the Malfoy name, in which I hold no belief. He _must_ understand the depth of his undertaking."

"I do imagine the information exists somewhere in his mind, but he was most likely sincere. His folly is living outside the secular world, which I suppose is also an asset."

"We shall see, Mr. Weasley."

"How long shall you be staying?"

"He does anticipate a fortnight. However, he seems to be preoccupied. Although he assures me the circumstances are manageable."

"Despite the situation in which he has placed himself, I am elated to meet with you once more.

"Yes, it was unfortunate we had to depart so soon. And though he is not wont to admit it, Mr. Potter was dreadfully upset."

"Where is he now?"

"Mr. Potter is having luncheon with Mr. Malfoy."

"Perhaps I criticised Mr. Potter too quickly. If he is to make relations with Lucius Malfoy without delay. I admit that my service is acquired through Narcissa Malfoy." He was puzzled by the sombre expression on her face. "You do not seem as enthusiastic."

"However can you tell?" Her tone was acerbic. "Not the father, Mr. Weasley. Rather his son."

"Oh."

"Something tells me that Mr. Potter is after more than a diamond necklace."

"I thought you were rarely one to speculate? If your mind wanders to where I believe it…Surely you jest, Ms. Granger?"

"I am afraid not, Mr. Weasley. If only you were to see him. You understand that I suspend any sentiment beyond his performances. Yet, something seems peculiar concerning this one."

"How so?"

"To be quite honest about it, he seemed rather besotted."

"_Our_ Harry is besotted with Draco Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley was taken aback by this turn of events. It was certainly something unexpected as Mr. Potter was never one to divulge in intimate relations beyond his amity with Ms. Granger and himself.

"Quite taken I do believe."

"If only it was not a Malfoy."

"I suppose you have no qualms against Mr. Malfoy's particular sex."

"Duly noted. I have learned from my father's mistakes."

"I apologise for my candour. I feel as if I have given you opportunity to recall unpleasant incidents?"

"Not against myself, but my older brother, William. He'd run away with another man. A disgrace to the family." Mr. Weasley closed his eyes in remembrance. "Rotten my mother, told me. He'd been disowned by my family…More specifically, my father."

"You never did tell me, but is that how you found yourself in the confidence business?"

"I think it true." He exposed his eyes, staring at her unguarded and direct. "I do not share Mr. Potter's story, but I feel vindicated in my own right."

"But of course, Mr. Weasley." She was able to hold his gaze upon her, acknowledging his story with a solemn nod.

"Do not appear so grave, Ms. Granger." His tone had lightened into one of delight. "Not everyone has the privilege of being an orphan."

"You are tantamount to Mr. Potter in your felled charisma, Mr. Weasley. How is it that I have come to know not one, but two men of such a heinous occupation?"

"I would define that as providence, Ms. Granger."

* * *

"It is pleasant to finally have you." Mr. Malfoy looked confused, which prompted Mr. Potter to further develop the thought. "Your company, of course. It is pleasant to finally have your company." Mr. Potter wore such a lavish grin, to which Mr. Malfoy was foolish to ignore.

"I should think it so as you were the one to invite me. Quite enthusiastically if I may add."

At the mention of his suppliant behaviour, Mr. Potter's face lost a bit of its lustre. Yet his smile remained. "A right gentleman you are to mention the rare occasion of my idiocy."

And although Mr. Potter related this as a quip, Mr. Malfoy took it as a personal transgression.

"I would object to such an accusation. I have absolutely no intention of gratifying someone's request if they-"

"Please pardon my interruption Mr. Malfoy, but our meeting was not mandatory."

"You are more than excused for your rudeness." Mr. Malfoy paused, taking the Mr. Potter's words in consideration. "However, I was simply being courteous to accept the invitation. For it would be ill of me to deny you."

"Ah." Mr. Potter said as if enlightened. "So I see you do think too highly of yourself." He smiled at Mr. Malfoy's indignant expression, the blush that appeared upon his cheeks, which he thought was rather fetching. "Any praise unwarranted is not subjected to your own opinion."

Mr. Potter was of course speaking of their first encounter, to which Mr. Malfoy found extremely boorish. The tone of his voice tinged with disdain in an attempt to oust his companion. "And I suppose you must think such of yourself if you consider that I would remember what occurred but one day prior?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, you have touted your own misgivings and disclosed your true thoughts."

Mr. Potter noted the becoming flustering of his acquaintance, who wore an expression that he could not quite place. Nevertheless, he deemed his initial perceptions of the man veritable.

Mr. Malfoy was certainly an intriguing character.

"Mr. Potter." It was undoubtedly remarkable that Mr. Malfoy managed not to raise his voice. A testament to his upbringing or an insight to his anger. "Of all the pompous-"

Unfortunately, Mr. Potter noted that he was not discover which would be the cause as they as were soon to be served.

"Good noon, sirs. I have your cream teas prepared." The attendant held a silver tray, profligately designed with the fashions of the East. Upon the dish was fine china in the form of cups and saucers, accompanied by a small platter of scones, boysenberry and strawberry jams, and a small bowl of clotted cream.

He first addressed Mr. Malfoy, who was notably of a higher status than his companion. "The Darjeeling tea, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes." Mr. Malfoy believed he heard a scoff from Mr. Potter, but attributed the thought to his imagination. Darjeeling tea was a most prised and expensive tea and clearly not a matter worth ridicule.

After placing the tray on the table, the attendant turned to Mr. Potter, who was indeed paying for the afternoon snack. "And you requested simply black tea, sir?"

"The Earl Grey." Mr. Potter corrected.

"Quite right. I do apologise." He began to pour the teas, resuming his attention to Mr. Malfoy. "Would you have milk or sugar, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Milk is my sugar, Mr. Pettigrew." (1)

The attendant turned to Mr. Potter. "And you sir, would you have milk or sugar?"

"Neither. I prefer my teas without supplement."

Mr. Malfoy looked at Mr. Potter and quickly to the attendant. "I have changed my mind, Mr. Pettigrew." Realising his obvious display of haste, he calmed himself, hoping to portray a much more composed disposition. "I wish to try something different. "So do withdraw my request for milk."

The attendant simply nodded, accustomed to the whims of the young Malfoy. "As you wish Mr. Malfoy."

Mr. Potter allowed himself a triumphant smirk, of which Mr. Malfoy took full notice, relaying his thoughts at the leave of the attendant.

"Do you think something is worth your hilarity, Mr. Potter?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy. I only find black teas and kettles of particular interest."

"Oh?" Mr. Malfoy was surprised at the response. "What sort of hilarity does it entail?"

"It is only a trivial notion as a part of my folly."

"In other words, you have no better validation for your hilarity and wish to thwart me."

This time, Mr. Potter did not bother to hide his laughter. A true smile warranted from his lips and reflected freely upon Mr. Malfoy, who allowed his own doubts of the man to become overturned by his fascination.

Their shared laughter was enriched and charmed, however brief.

"You are most galling, Mr. Malfoy." Mr. Potter collected himself, pausing to take a sip of his tea. "Shall we meet again?"

"In due course, Mr. Potter. What thoughts have you?"

"In two days time. I rather adore this little tea shop." He took a small bite of a scone covered with a thin spread of boysenberry jam. "Will this be suitable for you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Mr. Malfoy nibbled upon his own scone, which was topped with strawberry jam. "I should believe so."

Mr. Malfoy was certainly taken by the character of Mr. Potter. A person like no other he had known. He would surely do all in his power to encounter the man, again. His only hindrance would be his former governess and current tutor. However, he would elude her in some manner or another.

And Mr. Zabini, despite his unsanctioned position as his warden, would be none the wiser.

"How shall we schedule so it would be of convenience to you, Mr. Malfoy? I have found myself rather idle in these past few days and would favour to schedule around your preference."

"Noon, again?" Mr. Malfoy paused in the drinking of his tea. "I should believe myself available for recreation during that time."

"Do permit me to say that even as we are not soon to depart from one another, thus far, it has certainly been a pleasure. "Mr. Potter watched his companion thoughtfully. "Although I feel the experience rather fleeting."

"And you refer to my inconsistencies as a reflection of your idiocy." He looked to Mr. Potter inquisitively. "Are we not to meet again after this?"

Mr Potter smiled at the variety of expressions that played upon Mr. Malfoy's face as he drank his tea. Most likely due to the bitterness this time not diluted by his usual order of milk.

"I do hope so, Mr. Malfoy. I would be happy to know more of you."

* * *

(1) This is for Michael Serpent's _Milk is My Sugar_. May you rest in piece, Michael. 


	8. Part the Eighth

Mr. Weasley had a loose grasp on the glass of wine in his hand. "Mr. Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you any closer to obtaining the necklace?" He watched as his friend rummaged through his belongings, throwing every type of garment about the room of the hotel. Almost covering any open space allotted with the exception of his two companions.

Mr. Weasley gazed at Ms. Granger, smile lighting his features. "Has not a fortnight passed, Ms. Granger?"

"I do believe so, Mr. Weasley." Sitting on the bed, she, too watched as Mr. Potter put the room in absolute disarray.

Mr. Weasley attempted once more gain his attention. "Mr. Potter, the necklace for which you originally came here?"

"What necklace?" Mr. Potter paused, looking to his friends. He sat on the carpeted floor, his clothes scattered about him.

Mr. Weasley whispered conspiratorially in Ms. Granger's ears, knowing his words would be heard by the man who was on the floor. "I dare say you were correct in your observations, Ms. Granger. For he _is_ smitten."

Mr. Potter seemed to ignore the intercourse between his companions, more focussed upon an upcoming event which was the cause as to why their room lay muddled. "I have but a day to prepare. He did apologise for his impromptu invitation, however I hold nothing against him."

Mr. Potter paused in thought, then turned his attention to his friend. "Mr. Weasley, do you think it possible to have a morning coat tailored by tomorrow morning?"

If not for her swift reaction, Ms. Granger would have attributed Mr. Weasley's bereavement to the ill-consumption of his beverage.

She turned worriedly to address him. "Are you well, Ron." Seeing as his blotched face retained its usual colour, she turned to her other companion. "Mr. Potter, may I ask why you deem your collection unworthy of wear?"

She thought little of his disregard of Mr. Weasley. Seeing as the latter was now well. She also thought the circumstance quite just for one who consumes too much alcohol such as Mr. Weasley.

However, Mr. Potter seemed completely dismissive of the Mr. Weasley's near brush with death, his mind concentrating own his most recent dilemma. "He invited me to his birthday gala."

Mr. Weasley looked warily at his glass, which now sat upon the bedside table, grateful it was no longer in his hand. "I am sure that Mr. Malfoy pays little regard to your attire, Mr. Potter." He saw nothing amiss of Mr. Potter's garb and saw no need for him to have it tailored. However, he was willing to partake in the task, nonetheless.

Ms. Granger had of course known of the gala through Mr. Zabini. "I take it Mr. Weasley and I are not to be invited?" She, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Zabini had kept in touch because of the interaction between their friends, who were conversely unaware.

"I apologise Ms. Granger. I did not think to mention neither you nor Mr. Weasley in my conversations with Mr. Malfoy." Mr. Potter turned away from his companions, shame appearing lightly on his features as he eyes fixed upon the cloth for a cravat.

"The joy of being a friend to Mr. Potter." Mr. Weasley took the opportunity to laugh at rare occasion in which Mr. Potter actually blushed. For it was truly a sight to see such innocence in a man who lacked many a scruple.

Ms. Granger smiled. "It is of no consequence if you are to be so enraptured by someone, Mr. Potter." She would much rather it that he dote upon Mr. Malfoy than to find physical respite in the form of strattens.

And although his sentiment for Mr. Malfoy may be based upon an improbable foundation, due to both the constraints of society and Mr. Malfoy's position as the Malfoy heir, she would indulge her friend for the time being. Because she was happy to see Mr. Potter full of contentment at the prospect of portraying himself.

Ms. Granger shook her head, dispelling any more sombre thought. She decided to join Mr. Weasley in his mirth, but withdrew her own laughter for the sake of the dignity of Mr. Potter. "Perhaps he will be the one to make an honest man of you, yet."

* * *

"And you were to tell me of this Mr. Potter...When?"

"He is quite a remarkable man." Mr. Malfoy sighed, his eyes upon Mr. Zabini but almost unaware of the other man's presence.

"_Draco_."

Mr. Malfoy continued to ignore Mr. Zabini, a content smile upon his face. "Quite entertaining. And he has the most wonderful stories to tell."

"And this constitutes as-".

"Possibly one of the most cherished relations I have." Mr. Malfoy took himself out his reverie, looking to his friend. "And naturally I include my relation with you."

"And how did you find time to meet this Mr. Potter."

"Since that first outing when I was to purchase Mother's gift."

"And your mother and father have no comprehension of this?"

"I have conveyed to them my correspondence of a Mr. Potter."

"_Really_?" Mr. Zabini asked incredulously.

"Or rather I shall before the end of the night."

Mr. Zabini made no attempt to conceal his consternation. "And in regards to Ms. McGonagall?"

"Things of monetary value can be quite persuasive."

"I am almost afraid to invite your answer as to how you went about that."

"I felt she had little patience for me and was easily persuaded to flout my absence in our closed sessions."

Blaise laid his hand gently on his friends shoulder. "I do wish to applaud your cunning, dear friend."

Mr. Malfoy relayed a smile upon his face at the rare praise from his friend, which had quickly turned into a grimace when Mr. Zabini's hand moved to tug at this ear.

"Blaise!"

"I cannot believe you let yourself with a stranger without consulting me."

"You're hurting me."

"You could have had horribly wicked things happen upon you." Although Mr. Zabini already knew of the relationship between his friend and Mr. Potter, he thought it best to impart his irritation because his friend had withheld something from him.

"I am not sure as to what it is you speak. I do greatly enjoy his company."

"Did you believe I would immediately run to tell your mother and father?"

"No, but-"

"The same man I passed at the jeweller's two weeks prior."

"Yes."

"And you have been seeing him daily in the allotted time?

Mr. Malfoy was relieved when Mr. Zabini's hand released the hold on his ear. Yet he looked upon his friend cautiously. "Not quite, I think today was our seventh meeting."

"You met with him today?"

"Did I not just say so?"

"And when am I to see him?"

"Tomorrow, if things proceed accordingly."

"Is that not when…?"

"Precisely."


	9. Part the Ninth

"I do love the necklace, Draco." Mrs. Malfoy held it in her hand, the diamond faintly seen in the soft light. "May I ask to how you purchased it? Without the aid of your father or myself?"

"I do not wish to divulge my secrets, but Severus happened to know the jeweller. They are mutual acquaintances through a one Sirius Black."

Mr. Malfoy looked thoughtfully at his son. "I was not aware that Severus' friend was the same man who owned the Belladona jewellery shop."

"I was not aware either until he imparted this information two weeks ago."

Mrs. Malfoy scrunched her nose, the importance of the name of Sirius poised on the tip of her tongue. But she could not remember. "Do you enjoy your new frock coat, Draco? You were indeed due for a new one. If I did not know better, I would think moths were in your wardrobe, the way they seem to shorten."

Mr. Malfoy chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. "Narcissa, I do believe it is the inevitable sign that our son is growing."

"Am I officially able to go hunting, now?" Draco looked enthusiastically at his father. "I should rather think I am of proper age."

"Your age is not of consequence, Draco. Your mother and I simply condone the recreation. We think it better if you spend your times participating in academe."

Draco knew better than to argue with his parents and thought to bring the conversation to a lighter topic. "Do you remember the gentleman of whom I spoke yesterday?"

"Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked.

Mr. Malfoy peered at his son. "Does Blaise know of your encounter with this person whom you wish us to meet?"

"Of course, Father. He is to bring Mr. Potter this evening. He should be here any moment."

Draco began searching the crowd, in search of a familiar face. "There he is." He pointed to two figures making their entrance through the archway of the gardens.

His mother chastised his act of curtness. "Do no point, my son."

"I apologise Mother, but I am extremely excited for you to meet him." He waved his hand, garnering the attention of Blaise and Mr. Potter.

Mr. Potter made a direct path to the young Mr. Malfoy, but stopped himself when he noticed the two people standing behind him.

Blaise appearing contrite in front of his friend. "I am truly sorry that we are late in our arrival, Draco."

"It is of no consequence, Blaise." Mr. Malfoy smiled brightly, turning his attention to Mr. Potter. "I am happy you were able to bring Mr. Potter."

"Likewise am I happy to have been invited. I only regret not having time to bear a proper gift."

"Your presence is reward enough." Mr. Malfoy was still attentive to Mr. Potter, his focus unwavering.

"But I still give you my best regards on this most joyous day." Mr. Potter steadily held the young Mr. Malfoy's gaze, halted only by his sense of propriety.

He looked to the man and woman standing behind Draco, presuming they were his parents. His acute eyes perceiving the diamond necklace about Mrs. Malfoy's neck, but his heart hoping to impress the man with whom he had grown close.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." Mr. Potter gave a small bow. "It is truly wonderful to finally have the prospect of meeting you. Mr. Malfoy has told me a great deal of you and I am honoured to have such an opportunity."

Mrs. Malfoy was immediately taken by Mr. Potter's charisma. His tone gracious and his smile contagious. "I extend the same sentiment to you, as well, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Malfoy, however, seemed unimpressed. "Yes, Draco has told us many things about you in such a relatively brief amount of time."

"All in good context I hope. I had rather wished my first impression to be one I was actually able to make."

Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, and Blaise found themselves giving soft smiles while Mr. Malfoy did his best to retain the beginnings of his own. "How old are you Mr. Potter?"

"I am twenty-one years of age, Mr. Malfoy."

"And your parents, what of their occupation and your own.?"

"They had passed on while I was rather young. I was in the care of my aunt and uncle for most of my childhood, until I turned sixteen." Mr. Potter controlled the uncharacteristic unease he held. Mr. Malfoy's expression was shrewd and for the first time in so long, Mr. Potter had felt vulnerable. "Which from hence forth I assumed management of the personal finances inherited to me and then of my family avenue in trade."

Mr. Malfoy seemed pleased at this response, his face losing some of the sternness by which Mr. Potter was initially received.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I shall see you in the future."

"Draco."

"Yes, Father?"

Mr. Malfoy peered thoughtfully at his son, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Do not tarry long."

"Yes, Father. I will make sure that I do not."

Before making his leave, Mr. Malfoy turned to Mr. Zabini, a teasing look in his eyes. A look which Blaise knew assured Draco's freedom, at least for the night. "Mr. Zabini." Despite his assurances to Draco, he had indeed made sure his parents were somewhat aware of the situation concerning Mr. Potter and his companions.

Mrs. Malfoy looked at her son, softly cupping his cheek. "I am disheartened by the fact that we cannot stay. You do remember that your father and I have a rather serious appointment with Prime Minister Fudge. I am afraid he still yearns for our fortune." She offered a patronising smile. "Although I do find it quite enjoyable to lead him in a merry little chase." Draco returned her smile, inwardly laughing at the incompetence of the man who was so easily fooled.

She turned her attention to the other two men. "Mr. Zabini, I shall see you soon, as well. Please do look after Draco." She ignored the rather unbecoming groan made by her son. "And you, Mr. Potter. I apologise for the brevity of our encounter, but it was a delight to meet you. Please enjoy your stay."

As Mrs. Malfoy made her leave, Mr. Zabini looked at Mr. Potter. "Why, Mr. Potter, I believe that Mr. Malfoy likes you."

"Pardon?" Mr. Potter pondered how such a man who appeared as though he held him in some sort of contempt would then express himself in joy if it was in fact approval he was given.

"I should think you right, Blaise." Mr. Malfoy said cheerfully.

Reflecting upon his earlier thought, Mr. Potter looked at the men in confusion. "How so?"

"It could have been much less pleasant." Mr. Zabini turned to Mr. Malfoy. "You will be all right if I leave you two alone?"

"What do you mean? Where are you going, Blaise?"

"Do not fret Draco, Mr. Potter shall keep you company." He looked to Mr. Potter, happy to receive a confirmation. "You are nineteen, now, my friend. Your requested autonomy has begun."

"If it is not too much, may I ask to where you take your leave, Mr. Zabini." Mr. Potter wondered if the man knew of his intentions for Mr. Malfoy upon this night.

"To see an old friend or two. Do not forget that Mr. and Mrs. Nott have requested to see you sometime this night, Draco. They are to depart on the morrow, but they did arrive for this occasion." His voice trailed off as he walked away, becoming part of the endless chatter already present.

Leaving the two men to themselves.

Mr. Potter gave his companion an unusually nervous grin. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I happened to see your garden upon my way here and would appreciate if you would lead me amid it."

"Do you not want to participate in the festivities?"

"I should like to be some place quieter if you do not mind?"

"Of course not, Mr. Potter."

* * *

He was entranced by the light shining upon Mr. Malfoy's pale features. The moon enhancing the iridescence of his pale skin.

"Why have you the need to converse with me near the fountains, Mr. Potter?"

Mr. Malfoy waited for a reply, but it seemed as though Mr. Potter was distracted. His response disregarding Mr. Malfoy's inquiry.

"It does not look as awful as you once described, Mr. Malfoy." Mr. Potter heard his companion's initial question, but thought it better not to mention as to why he wished to speak with the other man in such a private locale. Away from prying eyes and curious ears.

Because Mr. Potter was going to make one of the most delicate decisions of his life.

"By what do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

"Your frock coat." He replied as if was the most obvious explanation. Mr. Potter moved closer to the other man, almost standing over Mr. Malfoy.

"I should think you look rather enticing in it."

Mr. Malfoy was grateful that Mr. Potter was not able clearly see his face. It was fairly dark outside and he knew he was blushing heavily. "If Mother could hear such talk, you would be banned from the Manor, Mr. Potter."

"Because I gave you a compliment." He spoke softly, his hands unconsciously straying to the lapels of Mr. Malfoy's frock coat.

"No…I believe it because your manner of speaking is quite direct."

"Mr. Malfoy, I find I have another proposition for you. That is, if you are not to mind?"

"I admit your initial proposal caught me unawares. However, I found our daily hauntings to be quite pleasurable." He stood back, hoping to release uncomfortable tension created by their proximity. "Although the situation occurred but two weeks before, do you wish to remind of that day Mr. Potter?"

"Please forgive your fellow man, for he has great reason to be distracted."

"Mr. Potter?" Mr. Malfoy looked apprehensive as the other man gently took his hand. The scene was becoming entrancingly familiar.

"I extend my sincerest apologies if I am to give you offence in the next few moments." Mr. Potter sighed heartily, knowing he was placing himself in a great deal more risk than that associated with his initial purport of acquiring a diamond. "However, I find that I can no longer subject myself as an actor in this play, despite the dire consequences I may face."

Mr. Malfoy laughed nervously. As Mr. Potter had such talent with speech. Woven into his demeanour that always made him debonair. But his merriment was shortened as he began to grasp the seriousness in which Mr. Potter spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy…"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Would you do me the honour of accepting my proposal of courtship?"

* * *

_One more chapter and I'm done with this menance. Only to fall into the trap of writing a Nick/Greg kinapping story...Where did I go wrong?_


	10. Part the Tenth

Mr. Potter looked languidly at the man across him, an expression of regret on his face. "Does your mother or father know our daily assignations?"

"Absolutely not. Can you imagine the scandal? Mother and Father would be furious."

If he were to be condemned to but this with Mr Malfoy, Mr. Potter would desperately accept so distant a relationship rather than none at all. "I must admit that I am quite pleased you have taken the initiative to support our latest encounter. However, I must admit I wonder as to why."

"I confess that I have been in thought since your second proposal last week."

"On your birthday? I was afraid you had denied me as I had not heard from you. Perhaps your earlier words held true and I was too direct?" Mr. Potter spoke softly, looking away in defeat.

Seeing this unwonted response, Mr. Malfoy answered in haste. "No. It was not you upon which my decision to halt our correspondence stood."

However, Mr. Potter had yet to look at Mr. Malfoy.

"I have a proposal of my own. It may be quite brazen of me, but I accredit this bout of bravery due to my presence around you." Mr. Malfoy was aware his silence during that night had affected Mr. Potter and with the _persuasion_ of Mr. Zabini, had been impelled to arrange their current meeting.

"Really?" Mr. Potter turned to Mr. Malfoy. His eyes widened, procuring the most inquisitive expression. "Please do continue. I find myself intrigued."

"There is a reason as to why I requested this specific arrangement."

"I was wondering why you chose a private area. Not that I knew such a concealed place existed." A faint smile came to Mr. Potter's lips, too eager to engage in the missed repartee with Mr. Malfoy. "And the thought you would know of such matter intrigues me, as well."

Yet Mr. Malfoy did not respond in the light tone that was expected. "I should like that you would…" He paused, lowering his head, seeming to search for the courage within himself. His eyes lingering on the table.

He abruptly looked to Mr. Potter, his words demanding. "I should like that you would kiss me, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Potter had long ago acknowledged his attraction for the young Malfoy heir. A feeling upon which he had acted and until recently had begun to bemoan. For he feared he may have driven away the one person with whom he fully desired to be intimate.

The pleasures in East End held no candle to the pleasures with Draco Malfoy.

He had spent his passing days much too despondent and neither the help of his only friends, much to their dismay, could do much to levitate his mood. Mr. Potter had become a shadow of his once confident self.

Hence he was, of course elated when he received the simple envelope with the Malfoy insignia. Inside which a simple piece of paper that stated a request to meet at Bott's tea shop.

However, this was certainly not what he was expecting. He had come to this town in search of a material treasure, but now found something far more valuable in the man who sat beside him.

The opportunity to physically converge with Mr. Malfoy had been forethought when his mind idled upon obtaining the diamond.

Yet, as things are oft to change with time, Mr. Potter found himself falling deeply for Mr. Malfoy.

"But Mr. Malfoy…We have only known of each other for but less than a month. And I-" He held no desire to spoil the remains of their relationship.

"Readily, Mr. Potter. Before my eyes become sore and my lips become desiccated in wait for a simple action."

At the prompt, Mr. Potter looked timidly at his companion.

He was mesmerised by the sight. His heart was palpitating, seeming to fluctuate in time with the visible flickering beneath Mr. Malfoy's eyelids. He had no desire to ruin any opportunity with Mr. Malfoy but would never be one to refute the chance to kiss the other man.

With a shortened breath, Mr. Potter closing his own eyes, placed a chaste kissed upon waiting lips.

He pulled away quickly, resisting air to his lungs. But at the lack of response, he allowed one eye open. Seeing his reflection in grey pupils, Mr. Potter did the same with the other.

"Is that it, Mr. Potter?" Mr. Malfoy found he was extremely disenchanted, his voice tinged with disappointment. "My first kiss was an utter waste."

"Mr. Malfoy?" Harry whispered carefully. He did not want to count his bearings so quickly, but was it possible that Mr. Malfoy returned the depth of his sentiments? "Your _first_ kiss?"

"You can at least refer to me by my given name." Mr. Malfoy's overconfident posture became a move to cringe as he saw the beginnings of an arrogant smile settle upon Mr. Potter's face.

"But you can still refer to me as Mr. Potter, if I am correct?"

Mr. Malfoy proclaimed himself a fool for such an open admittance, knowing he had such features that would lose him any opportunity of rebuttal.

"My…Are you blushing?" Mr. Potter could see the anxiety in Mr. Malfoy, accentuated by his tinted complexion. It was a positively beatific sight. Delight had made itself known on his face as he thought to make an effort to appease the man in front of him.

The man who desired him, he thought happily.

"_Draco_." Mr. Potter's experimenting of the name was deliberately soft and sonorous. In what seemed to be an attempt to further redden the face of his companion.

Though horribly embarrassed, it was his knowledge of Mr. Potter's devious mannerisms that Draco thought to justify himself. "Well…Is it not harsh for your lover not to refer to you by your given name?"

"Your first kiss and I am already your lover?" Mr. Potter inquired coyly, raising his eyebrows.

Draco gathered his eyes irritably and turned away with his arms crossed. "Mind you, I expected a bit more. _Especially_ from someone like you with all the stories you have told me."

Draco turned back around to glare at Mr. Potter, not giving the other man a chance to respond. "I am simply flustered. As I recall, we were having a moment."

"I am not quite sure. I adore the fact you are positively tickled pink for me."

Mr. Potter released a small chuckle at Draco's indignant pout, hoping to goad Draco.

Draco, not one to endure when he was the subject of hilarity, looked at the other man haughtily. He brought his hands around the neck of Mr. Potter, successfully bringing their heads mere centimetres apart.

Mr. Potter shivered at the warm breath that left a gentle caress upon his lips. "I shall show you _tickled pink_, Harry Potter."

Thus Draco proceeded to show him.

And it was precisely what Harry wanted.

Fin

* * *

_The deed is done._

_I know it seems a bit off, but this is supposed to be light and airy. Not heavy on the serious aspects. I may do a side story or something, but that's way off in the non-present._


End file.
